If Vesuvius had erupted during the match and sent its molten lava rolling down the hillside to engulf the old San Paolo stadium, the archaeologists of a future generation might have unearthed the remains of a youngish man, charred scraps of a rather fussy belted raincoat clinging to a corpse frozen for all time in a strangely contorted position, perhaps crouched down on its haunches, its hands fashioning an urgent gesticulation.

The historians would have noted the anguish on the man's features and assumed it to be the result of the shock and pain caused by the lava flood, like the victims in nearby Pompeii almost 2,000 years ago. They would be wrong. André Villas-Boas's pain was all caused by his football team, or rather his difficulty in making his players function according to his blueprint.